Wague District Mansion Heist
by MuddyWolf
Summary: Lupin and co. set their sights on their next target: Pride's house. Crossover with Lupin the 3rd and FMA 2003 . Will they get away clean? Or will they have to answer to one unhappy Homunculus? Part 3.
1. Chapter 1

1/7/11

1

A long-faced chimera guzzled down a glass of beer, slamming the emptied container against the wooden counter, rattling the surface under his weight. Several others exchanged gossip, in loud, raspy snarls, howls, hisses. Glowing eyes, drooling tongues as several gorgeous babes swayed on through, their skirts slit provocatively to reveal their creamy legs, at which a bare-chested hog whistled at.

"Blackjack! Now pay up!"

"Piss off! I ain't payin' you shit!"

Two rams locked horns, toppling the cards to the floor. A glass broke. Someone shrieked. The gorgeous human women orbited the monkey with his tongue lolling out, and he wantonly stuffed his face into their ample cleavage.

"Hey, boss." A chimera with the head of a wolf looked up from his martini.

"Uwaaweeewoooo!" the monkey howled gleefully, muffled in the barely-concealed mountains of fat. The perfumed hands caressed the monkey's flopping head, half-submerged in their low-cut dresses.

"Boss," the wolf growled again, spying a tall, muscular guy in a fur-lined leather jacket. The wolf tracked the man's sightlines and, yep, it was right onto Lupin. Like a big damn bulls-eye.

Yep. Jesus. So much for a little peace n' quiet.

The wolf casually pivoted on his elbow. Boss was already halfway out of his pants when the biker dude stopped just above them, looking really pissed. At his appearance, the girls snaked away from the monkey and returned to the muscled arms of the biker dude., leaving the monkey with his arms wrapped around air and losing his balance. The monkey plopped onto the wooden floor, whereupon the biker grabbed him by the purple tie and pulled him up to his face, his eyes hidden by opaque glasses.

"You got a lotta grapes, chimp. Those girls are MINE." He sniffed slightly, his closed-mouth scowl turning into a clenched teeth rage. "Bad disguises, you bastards. You aren't chimeras…" Behind his opaque glasses his eyes narrowed to slits. "That'd make you military spies." The man flung the even more offending patron over the counter and into the shelf, smashing the bottles with brutish violence and with way more of a force than it looked like he was capable of. Liquid and glass shards spilled out onto the floor, the "monkey" following them down from a painful-looking imprint.

"Boss!" The "wolf" reached behind him and pulled out his gun. Out of nowhere a man with a fierce snarling face and a sword came running at the "wolf" but the man threw out his arm.

"Cool it, Dorochet, I wanna deal with these spies myself. Clear the place in case things get messy."

"You got it, boss." The wolf kept his eyes on the hench until he disappeared into the throng, some yelling, the horde lumbering out of the bar. A few minutes later he was back and posted himself by the door. Opposite him was a giant of a man with white hair.

"I'm gonna only ask once and then I'll introduce ya to some Dublith hospitality." The man pounded his fist into his palm, the sound thunder in the human's ears. The "wolf" grit his teeth. He was getting' a real bad feeling. "On second thought—screw that, I'm gonna beat ya within an inch of your life right now," the man grinned menacingly, stalking over to the "monkey's" limp body. The man with the wolf's head swung around, and almost plugged the target when the limp man suddenly sprung upright, cracked his head a little, and cheerily dodged the battering ram arm smashing into the wall.

The gunman's eyes widened in surprise as the man's punching hand turned black. The sound of the impact was like if a boulder had hit the wall. The hell?

"Heeeheeh! You gotta get your eyes checked, pal, 'cause last time I checked, neither me or my partner here even looks like a soldier!" laughed the "monkey", who pulled off his mask to reveal a leering human face.

The man's eyebrow curved and his mouth slanted.

"Why'd ya even need a mask?" He turned back to grinning, his voice incredulous. "You're not a soldier? Sorry, I'm a little skeptical, ya see. You're gonna have to prove it to me!" the leather-clad brute yelled, planting his black hand into the floor and smashing straight through the wood.

"Careful! You might let out all the mold spores!" the human laughed in midair, one eyebrow slanted against his eye and the other arched impishly. He snatched something of the man's on his way down, landing lightly on the boards. The two guards at the door shifted. The man , surprised, clutched at his face., then made another motion with his hand, staying his guards. He rose to his full height, leering over at the guy in red spinning the opaque glasses around his finger. "I'm Lupin III! And I've got bigger ambitions than serving in anyone's friggin' army!" With a smug grin, Lupin tossed back the glasses, which the thug caught in his fist, the one with the—

_Man, what a tacky tattoo!_

A glint of recognition sparked in those purple eyes as the man's mouth broadened to an impossible width.

"Heh. I like ya, kid."

_Kid—what the hell's that about? Lupin looks just as old as this guy, _Jigen thought, still training his gun on the-by now, he figured was some kinda gangster_. Acts like the big daddy, though he dresses like a friggin' teenager. But he's a gangster, no doubt about it_. And he should know. "You're just brimming with avarice."

Lupin smirked and tilted his head at a cocky angle.

"Yep. And somethin' tells me you are, too. Ya know, we're not all that different."

"I beg to differ," the man angled his head just as cockily, raising his hand and curling his fingers towards his chest. "But you don't need to know the details. Your heist, though—" his eyes narrowed. "I wanna know ALL the details."

Jigen—who had finally gotten his mask off while he held his Magnum with one hand, leaned forward and growled,

"Listen here, punk, it's our job and you aren't entitled to squat, so just get lost!"

"Hey, calm down, Jigen!" Lupin pushed on Jigen's nose and shoved him away, the gunman slipping backwards, startled. His teeth clenched, he lowered his gun. Lupin was now standing in front of the tattooed man-and he had zipped up his pants. Must be that his partner wanted to talk business with 'im. "This guy's got good booze, great girls, the least we can do is show 'im the target, right?" Lupin spoke in that flippant, ingratiating tone that Jigen was able to recognize immediately. Still, he played the part and grumbled unobligingly. Lupin cheerily plunked down on one of the stools, the tattooed man following him and looked down in satisfaction at the papers that he had taken out from under his red jacket. "That's where we're gonna hit! Tonight!"

The man looked over the blueprint with a smile, smile—it disappeared. And then he began to laugh, a malicious raucous burst that set Jigen ill at ease. Lupin glanced at the other guy quizzically. "And what's so damn funny about it, huh? This is the friggin' Fuhrer's mansion! The guy's gotta be rollin' in dough, 'specially since both the state army and the state government are on his payroll!"

Something about this red guy was all BS. He hid it pretty well, but there was something not adding up about the thief's motives. If he just wanted cash, there were plenty of other joints to hit up—the First National Bank, Central Branch was always a good bet.

"Trust me, kid." The man had a hand clasped to his face that was staring up at the ceiling, hidden from view. When he brought it back down again to lock eyes with Lupin, it was a dead serious frown. "There's NOTHING in that house worth stealing. And if I were you I wouldn't touch that place with a 90 foot pole. I'm greedy as hell but I wanna live more than anything."

Lupin's eyebrow hungrily arched.

"Is that so? Well, spiky, off we go into the jaws of death!" Lupin rolled up the blueprint and tucked it into his jacket, hopping down from the stool and brushing by the other man who sat stock still by the bar counter. Jigen followed him, his hands in his pockets. The guards sort of just stood there, and let the two thieves go without trouble.

"'Gonna break into Pride's pad, huh? He's insane..must have a death wish or something," Greed muttered nonchalantly to himself, planting a fist on his narrow cheek and propping himself up on his elbow.

Or maybe he's got an axe to grind., too. Whatever, it's not my problem.

"Well, Lupin III, nice knowin' ya."


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone knew the plan. Lupin had made nice with the guy who had designed Fuhrer-iFuhrer? Really?/i Bradley's mansion and got the plans. A quick change and a plaster mold got him the details on security from the helpful folks at Central Command—

"No sensors, keycards, not even dogs…" remarked Fujiko. "Are you sure this guy's the real deal, Lupin? He has to be an extra brand of stupid if he doesn't take precautions to keep out entrepreneurs like us." She flashed her eyelashes at him. "Why don't we hit one of the art museums or jewelry stores in Aquaroya, what do you say?" she squeezed her ample breasts against Lupin, her cleavage swallowing his skinny arm, which made his pants go haywire, but he managed to keep his focus.

"Not a chance, Fujicakes! Hitler clone's not exactly high-tech, but he's got 34 guards on the ifront path,"/i Lupin squished a long finger on the said front path, the one that lay between the front gate and the front doors.

"The front path?" Goemon arched a thin eyebrow. "He is practically inviting us to enter from the back route."

"Ten minute job, tops," Jigen took a confident drag on his tall cigarette, back crushed into the couch, legs lazily crossed on the table. Nice place—no one really knew 'em there, so boss had picked out a nice hotel that didn't have a shitty ceiling fan for once.

"Which is exactly what we're going to do!" Lupin announced and cocked one eyebrow up, the other slanting downward in his trademark wise-ass grin.

It went just like they planned it. All four of the thieves easily climbed over the front gate wall, cutting across the grass behind the giant-sized topiaries lining the front entrance. The guards were Buckingham Palace-stiff, and none noticed the robbers skirting across the lawn, armed just with their signature weapons: Lupin with his Walther in the shoulder holster in his jacket, Jigen with his Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum in his belt sitting on his ass, Fujiko with her Browning M1910 in God knows where, and Goemon with Zantetsuken, or better known as the sword that can cut through fucking anything, in his fist.

The four thieves slipped over the inner wall, only about 10 feet high. From there it was an easy path to the door.

Little did they know that Fuhrer Bradley had the best goddamn security system in the world:

Himself.

The second that Lupin made magic with his lockpick and the toe of Lupin's stylish shoes hit the first expensive-but-not-gaudy floorboard of Bradley's foyer, his Homunculus eye snapped open with wakefulness. With his Homunculus ears he could hear human vermin shiffing about. With his Homunculus brain he processed that they were probably thieves or assassins. Either way, he knew exactly what to do.

Bradley rolled out of the bed and put his Homunculus feet into his slippers. The movement stirred Mrs. Bradley awake.

"What's the matter?"

"I'll be right back. Going to kick some ass."

Mrs. Bradley yawned and sank back on the pillow with a disinterested "Alright dear," as Bradley started walking away from the bed. He didn't bother to dress—he was rather fond of these flower-patterned pajamas, and going to his ornate chair carved with bumblebees, retrieved his sword. He then walked out of their room, and shut the door behind him so as to not bother her with the sound of tortured screams.


	3. Chapter 3

But there were no tortured screams. His human son stood between him and the home invaders, tantalizingly close to getting a royal pounding administered by him, King Bradley/Pride.

"Father, um..I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering, if I could I get a glass of milk, please?" asked Selim in that careful, indirect way he asked things, especially when asking his father something. Bradley smiled a mustached smile. He had countless servants at his beck and call—all five of them were asleep at the moment, any of which he could rouse at any hour and make them get the glass of milk instead, but he took personal gratification in being able to play the perfect father to his perfect son. No..not _play—_This _was_ his son, he was his father, (Don't ask me the mechanics of human-Homunculus sex)

"Why certainly, Selim," Bradley indulged his son, but not before—"But if don't mind, stay in your room, son," he said gently, but always using an imperative. Like he was his little soldier. Normally it was simply to enforce protocol, since Selim was the Fuhrer's son. But now it was for his own _safety. _He closed his son's bedroom door and locked it, so Selim wouldn't wander out. Not that he would be so foolish as to do so, but _you could never be too cautious._

Bradley headed down the stairs of his lush abode, the building of which he had commissioned himself by the finest architect in Central. He had chosen a lot of things himself-his wardrobe, what books he chose to read, his furniture, how he spent what little leisure time he had, when he wasn't, you know, having the Ishbalans massacred or slaying fugitives. Bradley was every inch an evil dictator, except he didn't do it for ideological reasons or because he was a racist fuckshit. More like he was told do by the one who turned him from a slithering pile of shit into a damn sexy facsimile of a human. He could easily turn the carnage loose into Amestris and make mulch of their blonde-hair, blue-eyed asses, but Dante had said 'use the brown people'. So he used the brown people. Whatever, he was easy.

Amestris's Fuhrer pulled the stately chain that lit up the kitchen with a bright light that was good for reading in or killing unwanted guests. He lightly removed his patch with his other hand and that freakish noise that the Ultimate Eye made vwwhmed, causing Marta's soul to shit bricks. Psychadelic rainbows came into his vision—think of looking into a kaleidoscope and that would be what the Ultimate Eye saw. Plus General Hakuro's pale asscrack. The Eye went into mini-mode, limiting what Bradley could see to his own neighborhood, then to his own house, and then to his own kitchen. He X-rayed the refrigerator and with a deft thrust, stabbed into it cleanly.

POP.

"Oh geez ya got me! Yahhh! I'm done for!" the robber cackled—Pride detected that the rat's monkeyish laughter was emanating from the cupboard, and he withdrew his sword from out of the refrigerator with a loud crrrrrnk—but it wasn't an error on his part, not at all: Pride cleanly pulled out the milk jug through the clean puncture he had made as well as what was left the inflatable monkey out from the fridge, naturally not tipping over or damaging any of the contents of the fridge. "Nice aim, gramps!" the owner of the monkey doll laughed as Bradley shook the remnants off his sword while keeping the milk jug pierced on it—in the empty part, of course, so the milk wouldn't spill. "But you're in Okinawa when you should be in Hokkaido!"

"Who said I was aiming for you?" Bradley chuckled. "I'll be back shortly." Bradley whistled _In the Hall of the Mountain King_ as he poured the milk into the glass, and opening the fridge normally, set the jug of milk back in place before closing the fridge door and exiting the kitchen, turning out the light.

Lupin blinked his circular eyes out from inside the cupboard, now pitch-black. Not that was a problem—nope, they had bigger ones on their hands. _I smell a psycho..!_

Lupin twisted his earpiece.

"Jigen, we got a way-too-damn-calm-to-be-just-another-assclown- Plus he's got a Zantetsuken, cut right through the refrigerator, so watch out—"

"Two Zantetsukens?..!" Goemon whispered with his usual harsh, guttural intensity into Lupin's device. "I cannot let that happen. I will not have peace of mind until I eliminate the second Zantetsuken from this world—"

"No Goemon, wait!" Lupin warned his hotheaded partner shrilly, bumping around in the dark cupboard. Bonk. "Ow, son of a bitch!" the master thief squiggled out of the cupboard and hopped out, landing without sound on the kitchen floor. Having memorized the layout of the house, he maneuvered around the counter and stove and out the kitchen for where he left Goemon and Jigen, to work the basement, and in his panic about what Goemon might rush headlong into in his mission to destroy the second Zantetsuken he completely forgot that Fujiko was working the _study_, which was right smack dab in front of the _stairs_, towards which Bradley in his blue fuzzy slippers was heading.


End file.
